On Blogs and Blather
From the NY Times review of "Bird Cloud" by Annie Proulx
“I like a colorful, handily cluttered kitchen and Bird Cloud’s cabinets and drawers in red, violet, aquamarine, burnt orange, cobalt, lime, brick, John Deere green and skipjack blue inspires stir-fries, osso buco, grilled prawns, Argentinean salads of butterhead lettuce, tomato, sweet onion, roast lamb with Greek cucumber and dill sauce, frittatas, rhubarb sauce with glasses of dry Riesling for the cook. You bet.”
When I first read this I thought, "This sounds like the spam I get in my inbox." On another level, though, it kind of cuts me too. I can be as self absorbed in dense prose as the next writer that fancies his output, so who am I to snicker? It would be nice to make shorter, more to the point pieces, but that's no where near as fun; and hell, it's her book. If she can get a publisher to put out a memoir, good for her; and if I can get LJ to continue giving me free space to archive my ramblings, more power to me.
"More power to me?" Well, that was a bit presumptuous now that I look at it. Then again, a blog is all reality a self focused concept (although, to be fair, often highly influenced by what people have to say about it), so by its very nature it can be a bit immodest. Still if enjoys putting out stuff, and by chance others enjoy reading it, then it's a good thing. Which brings to mind a recent blog related discussion...
A buddy of mine recently discovered the LJ account of a close friend. She was very shocked that anyone would post this stuff in public, and read a few paragraphs from one of the girl's entries. It was composed of gorgeous prose that would swell into sublimity and crash into depressiveness. In short, perfect stuff on LJ with good writing and raw emotion. Although I have a bad habit of taking the opposite side of people's concerns (damn gadfly reflex) , in this case, I took my actual position as I consider the act of opening up in writing to be an opening up to oneself as well, and as honesty to self is almost a cardinal moral dictate to me. It even goes beyond the simple act of catharsis, as not every paragraph results in feeling better, some make us feel worse, and inasmuch as that causes us to be aware of problems that need correcting, it's a new good.
“I like a colorful, handily cluttered kitchen and Bird Cloud’s cabinets and drawers in red, violet, aquamarine, burnt orange, cobalt, lime, brick, John Deere green and skipjack blue inspires stir-fries, osso buco, grilled prawns, Argentinean salads of butterhead lettuce, tomato, sweet onion, roast lamb with Greek cucumber and dill sauce, frittatas, rhubarb sauce with glasses of dry Riesling for the cook. You bet.”
When I first read this I thought, "This sounds like the spam I get in my inbox." On another level, though, it kind of cuts me too. I can be as self absorbed in dense prose as the next writer that fancies his output, so who am I to snicker? It would be nice to make shorter, more to the point pieces, but that's no where near as fun; and hell, it's her book. If she can get a publisher to put out a memoir, good for her; and if I can get LJ to continue giving me free space to archive my ramblings, more power to me.
"More power to me?" Well, that was a bit presumptuous now that I look at it. Then again, a blog is all reality a self focused concept (although, to be fair, often highly influenced by what people have to say about it), so by its very nature it can be a bit immodest. Still if enjoys putting out stuff, and by chance others enjoy reading it, then it's a good thing. Which brings to mind a recent blog related discussion...
A buddy of mine recently discovered the LJ account of a close friend. She was very shocked that anyone would post this stuff in public, and read a few paragraphs from one of the girl's entries. It was composed of gorgeous prose that would swell into sublimity and crash into depressiveness. In short, perfect stuff on LJ with good writing and raw emotion. Although I have a bad habit of taking the opposite side of people's concerns (damn gadfly reflex) , in this case, I took my actual position as I consider the act of opening up in writing to be an opening up to oneself as well, and as honesty to self is almost a cardinal moral dictate to me. It even goes beyond the simple act of catharsis, as not every paragraph results in feeling better, some make us feel worse, and inasmuch as that causes us to be aware of problems that need correcting, it's a new good.